Planck's Law
by Dannemund
Summary: Pure smut, don't even read this. What happens after a stupid smoothskin baits a ghoul a little too much. Marcelo/Joey after EBD. RATE M FOR MATURE


Note: Look the title up, you'll laugh, I'm sure. This is what happened immediately after the events of Everybody Dies. Straight up rough ghoul sex, so you probably shouldn't be reading it. Final warning. **Smut**.

* * *

The stupid little smoothskin was _following_ him now, making eyes at him, watching his every move. He could feel those shining black eyes on his muscles, feel them trailing down what skin he had left. Like she wanted to fucking _eat_ him, or something.

It was ridiculous! Marcelo had gone north, further away from whatever memories he had south of the island, and she kept following him. She took to wearing a leather outfit, like he was, and was carrying a rifle, and a combat knife. Marcelo figured she'd be smart like that, though.

What he didn't figure was finding her around every fucking corner, and standing there in silence, daring him. Standing with her hands on her hips, legs spread, chest out, and her full lips pushed into a pout, staring at him with those eyes. He wasn't a patient man, never had been.

What the hell could she want besides a good fuck? Following him around, after he threatened her on the island, egging him on like she was? He sure as shit wasn't gonna give her another fucking _hug._ Stupid bitch didn't know what she was getting into.

The first time she dared him, he pushed her out of his way and went on. She cornered him again in a bar, and he ignored her for a full half hour before he dragged her outside and shook the shit out of her again, but she only laughed at him, this time.

Laughed at him. _Laughed!_

He reminded himself that what he was going to do he needed privacy for, because he was gonna break the bitch in right and proper. Maybe she wasn't gonna like it, at first, but she would eventually. That made him grin. Yeah, she'd _like_ it, in the end.

He headed for an old train station, one he'd never been to before, and cleared out the raiders that were living there. Every exit was sealed, except for the one. It was damn near perfect, but for the smell.

She stood at the top of the tracks, in that ridiculous pose, watching him. He moved around in the Metro, trying to decide what he wanted to start with. It had been so long, he'd forgotten too much about fucking, he felt the rush of want and almost had to punch himself in the dick to push it back. Eventually her silent standing criticism of him drilled holes into the back of his head, and he told himself _"Fuck it"._

Marcelo dragged a mattress to the middle of the floor between the tracks, and retrieved the girl, who was grinning in a shit-eating way. That was alright; she'd lose the smile, soon enough. He pushed her toward the mattress and stood, relaxed, and ordered, "Strip."

She looked at him with a calculating smile and chuckled a little, but put her weapons to the side. She laid her hands on her hips and stared him down again.

"Strip," he repeated, his tone firm.

She kicked off her boots and removed her jacket, but stopped at that, throwing them to the side. "You think I'm gonna put on a show?" she asked, and her voice was so fucking full of herself, he couldn't help but get angry.

Marcelo strode across the floor, grabbed her by the front of her shirt, and punched her in the stomach. She jerked, coughing, and reeled backwards, but was held in place by his grip. "I _said,"_ he rumbled in her ear, _"strip."_

"Alright, _fuck!"_ the bitch muttered, holding her stomach. He released her with a shove and watched her shimmy out of her leather pants, and toss her shirt to the side. She left her underwear on, and he didn't bother to remind her again. He ripped them at the seams, pulling them from her body. She protested, but he grabbed her hip hard and growled threateningly, and she grew quiet.

She shivered a little, in the darkness, and he rumbled in appreciation. She was lithe, a rich brown color, a haze of black hair outlining her sex. Not much in the chest department, but that didn't matter; Marcelo liked everything below the waist best. For a moment, he just stared, taking in the wild expanse of skin in front of him.

"Sit," he ordered.

She flopped herself down in an unappealing way, arms and legs all over. She adjusted herself to sit Indian-style, hands on her knees, breasts pushed forward by her toned biceps. He walked around behind her, and studied her from behind. Yeah, she looked real good. He chuckled meanly, saw her skin getting goosebumps.

"Eyes forward," he said, and he kept his eyes on the back of her head, her hair trimmed short on her head. That wasn't as fun, he knew. But it was smart on her end, to keep it short. Wouldn't be in her face, while she was shooting shit. Wouldn't get in his face while he was breaking her like a wild horse.

He slowly removed his armor, feeling the leather crackle. Had been almost two months, since he'd last removed it, and it showed the lack of care. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been completely naked. His undershirt and pants were tossed, and Marcelo stood behind her, tensing his arms, thinking. _How to start._

He wasn't proud of being a ghoul, but he didn't rightly care what others might think about it. He was... comfortable with his nasty appearance, and if the stupid bitch was following him like she was, _because_ he was a ghoul, then he was gonna show her just how much of a _monster_ one could be. He flexed a muscle and grinned at himself. Or maybe it was because he was strong, and he'd squashed that super-ghoul in St. James... for her.

Yeah, she was gonna get hurt, if that was the way she was thinking.

He put a hand down on her shoulder, and squeezed as hard as he could. She groaned in pain, tensed under his grasp, and punched out at him. "Stop," he ordered, letting up the pressure. "Eyes forward, bitch." On a thought, he warned her. "There is no safe word for this."

"What the fuck is a safe word?" she asked, stupidly.

He tightened his hand. "I won't stop, even if you ask," he rasped.

"Good!" she said, laughing. But he could hear her voice trembling. _You say that now,_ he grinned to himself. _Stupid bitch._ He was painfully hard, now, after hearing her nervousness.

He sat on the mattress behind her and planted his heels under his ass, then lifted her up under her armpits, and positioned her over himself. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest and she hissed. "Shit," she said. _"Shit―"_

And then he was inside, all the way to his hips, ragged flesh meeting her perfect gash, and she cried out, jerking upright in pain. He moved his hands to her hips and held her on him, while she thrashed a little, and watched her put her hands onto the mattress in front of him, catching herself from falling, groaning. She felt amazing, so fucking warm and soft, he almost lost it right then and there.

She started to cry, tears falling down her nose and onto the floor. He grunted, pulled her upright, and leaned her back onto his chest. She was tall, but not as tall as him, and her eyes were level with his mouth now. He wound a hand into what hair he could grab, and yanked her head to the side, so she could see him talking.

"Start moving," he said. Give her a lead, she'd be more fun. He'd gauge how much experience she had. He felt her quivering around him, and he smiled wickedly.

She didn't move. Marcelo reached around with his free hand and grabbed one nipple, twisting it painfully. She hissed, and tried to move away from him. "Start. Moving," he repeated.

The bitch planted her knees carefully and moved, slowly, pushing herself upward. He gave her more lead, allowing her to move, and she stopped at the very tip of him, shivering, sniffling.

Fuck him. She was a virgin. Blood on his cock, shit, wasn't there a first time for everything.

He pulled her back down, not very hard but hard enough, and she yelled out again, still crying softly. He held her firmly for a moment, and breathed in deeply. Her skin against his torn chest was warm, but the air was cold, and the combination felt wonderful. She smelled like apples, when he inhaled, and it was enough to spur him to motion.

"I warned you," he rasped, and he began to move her hips roughly with one hand, pushing and pulling her on his lap. She yelped, he could see her face below his, pulled backward by one hand, biting her lip in pain, eyes jammed shut. She started to tremble, her whole body shaking. He grinned, let go of her hair, and twisted her nipple again, pounding into her.

"Open your fucking eyes, _bitch."_

She gasped, when she did, and saw him staring at her, his face set in a grim horror mask. _Jesuchristo,_ he almost lost it again at the sight of her, pain in her eyes, her face wounded. It was delicious. He gave her a hard thrust, heard the cry of pain she gave, and savored it.

He slowed to a stop, staring at her, and pushed her off his dick. She sprawled forward onto her hands and knees, and while he wouldn't mind taking her from behind again, he wanted more to fuck her from the front, so he could see that pretty little brown face screwing up in pain. He pushed himself up onto his knees, and grabbed her hips.

She shuddered and jerked, trying to crawl away from him. Pointless, because he pulled her back and flipped her over, slamming her onto the mattress. He slapped her across the face. "We're not done here," he growled, leaning over her. He ran a rough hand from her collarbone to her chest, pinching a nipple on the way, then down to her mound. He thumbed at the flesh, idly, looking at the blood he'd caused. _Never had a virgin, before._ This was _fun._

She shuddered again. She'd thrown her hands to the sides, limply. There were tears on her face, her eyes closed. "Open your eyes," he rasped, commandingly, and picked her hips up, feeling the muscles bunching on her lower back. She opened them a slit, staring at him, her mouth set in a firm line.

Marcelo chuckled and slapped her ass, hard.

She yelped, and lifted a leg to kick him, hard, in the shoulder. He laughed harder, grabbed her ankle, and pushed into her, the other hand on her hip. Her shoulders and elbows were the only thing keeping her on the ground. He laid into her, hard, and watched her close her eyes again.

She was fucking with him, he thought, or she was just damn stupid. He pushed her leg down off his chest, running his hand down her body to her throat, and growled. "What the fuck did I say?"

"Eyes― _open,"_ she choked out, as he squeezed lightly, then harder, and her head bounced with his movements, in and out. She felt great, her insides moving around his cock. He felt his face begin to flush, had to stop himself, slowing down. She coughed a little, under his hand, her eyes on his.

Felt like he should say something, one hand on her throat, one hand on her hip, steadying himself as he fucked her. Couldn't think of what, though. His head was going comfortably numb from pleasure. That was bad; he needed to be in control until she got off, at least.

He released his grip on her neck, put his hand on the mattress, and bent down, and grabbing a nipple in his teeth, letting his movements rake his teeth across the flesh. She arched upward, into him, moaning. Fucking _finally!_ He was starting to think she was gonna let him rape her, and that wasn't a pleasant thought. Marcelo didn't rape women. He did hurt them, abused them occasionally, but he wasn't a goddamn _rapist._ He grinned, and felt her ribs hit him in the jaw as she bucked up against him.

"Maybe I should chew those pretty little tits right off you," he snarled, pulling himself backwards. She grabbed his head with both hands and held him, stronger than he thought, panting, moaning, making all sort of good noise. He tilted himself to the right, losing the good feeling, willing himself not to lose his head.

But she'd closed her fucking eyes again, and he couldn't let that happen, had to maintain control. He was desensitized in this position, felt like he'd shot already, he couldn't tell. He was still hard, could feel her smooth insides putting up no resistance to his jagged flesh, and he kept it up, moving in and out of her. She'd started to push up against him with rough motions, and he grinned.

"Fucking bitch," he growled, and grabbed her face with one hand, squeezing her cheeks. Her eyes popped open as he mashed his mouth into hers, running his tongue along her teeth. She moaned in a frantic way against the intrusion, and bucked her hips up into him, hard.

 _Ah, shit!_ She was cumming, and he could feel the vibrations pulling a reaction from him. She still held his head, and he could feel whatever blood he had left rushing downwards into his skull, bent over her like he was. Her muffled moans grew louder, and he pushed himself back to the left, feeling the waves of pleasure rushing back. He unloaded himself in her, stifling a groan, and bit her on the mouth, tasting sweet spit, then coppery blood.

He kept going for a moment, then pulled his head out of her hands, placing both hands on her hips and feeling her clenching around him. There was blood all over the both of them, _her_ blood, and he grinned, before pulling out abruptly. She dropped to the mattress and rolled onto her side, shivering and moaning.

Marcelo slapped her ass again, and sat backward, riding the high. It wasn't as violent as he had been, in the past, but hell, she _was_ fun. He looked forward to the opportunity to do it again. The bitch kicked like a wild horse―he _would_ break her like one.

"Asshole," she croaked out. "Fucking _asshole."_

"I warned you," he said again, gruffly. "Fuck you expect?"

She coughed and pushed herself upward, sitting on her heels. She shot him a look and wiped her mouth, wincing. "You bit my lip," she growled. "That _hurt!"_

Marcelo laughed, running a hand along the back of his neck, feeling damn good. It had been too long, he thought. "You want to play with _Marcelo,"_ he said. "Marcelo fucking plays hard."

"Fuck you, man," she said, rubbing her mouth. "You bite my mouth again, I'll kick you in the _goddamn balls!"_

Marcelo growled and shoved her down again, put his hand on her neck, and squeezed. "Bitches don't get to make rules," he said, and he saw the fear in her eyes. He twitched, hardening again. He prodded at her swollen flesh, grinning brazenly. "Bitches just get _fucked."_

She laughed headily, those black eyes shining, and wrapped her legs around him, pulling herself back onto him.

She wanted to play with Marcelo? He snorted. Marcelo would fucking _play._


End file.
